In the Grey
by LadyJanelly
Summary: SLASH! Drizzt is captured and tortured in the Baenre complex during Starless Night. How far will Dantrag Baenre go to make sure Drizzt lives to fight him, and how far will Artemis Entreri go to save him?
1. Hate me

Title: Phlith Uns'aa (Hate Me)

Chapter: 1-- Darkness Descends  
Author: LadyJanelly  
Fandom: Forgotten Realms

Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms or any characters, lands, or items from the TSR world. They belong to their respective copyright holders.  
Archive: Yes, but please tell me where.  
Rating: R (I hope)  
Warnings: Slash, violence, violent rape, damaged people behaving in dysfunctional ways. If you're reading this because you enjoyed "Run," you'll probably hate it. This is NOT part of the "Run" universe

Summary: An AU that begins when Drizzt is captured and tortured in the Baenre complex during Starless Night. How far will Dantrag Baenre go to make sure Drizzt lives to fight him, and how far will another go to save him?

Notes: I like dark-vision as heat-vision, so it's written that way.

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"Guuan phor!" For a moment the words made no sense, and then understanding came to him. The words were drow; a demand that he wake. The slap to his face stung. It was hard enough to snap his head back, smacking the rough stone of the wall behind him. Neither discomfort , however, was more than a vague footnote to the agony coursing through his chained and tortured body. He hung limp from his wrists, metal links that ended in a bracket on the wall above his head supporting his weight.

"Guuan phor!" The command was repeated, and the blow fell on the other side of his face this time. With effort, he opened his eyes, showing a sliver of lavender no wider than the thickness of a thumbnail.

Utter blackness met his gaze, though he could hear movement around him, two figures, in the dark. And then he began to remember. Menzoberanzan. The Baenre complex. He almost laughed at himself. What a fool he had been; leaving his friends, his life, to come here. It had been the deepest hubris, to think that the forces of the darkelf city had been mobilized to recapture him, a lone renegade; that if he surrendered himself they would no longer have interest in conquering the rich dwarven mines.

With effort, he shifted his perception of the chamber. The blackness disappeared, and the Baenre torture room sprang into existence, the patterns of heat giving form and shape to the stone walls, the chains, the table laden with devices of torment, and most of all, the features of the two drow before him.

Through the haze of pain-born confusion, he could see the dark elf's anger rising from his skin in visible waves of heat; staining his cheeks, his eyes, bright with unrestrained hatred.

"Spiders take you!" he hissed as Drizzt's head lolled to the side, too heavy to hold up any longer. Hard fingers caught him under the jaw, tilting his face upwards again. Fingers worked at the joint of his jaw, forcing his mouth open. A potion so bitter that it burned was poured past lips torn by his own teeth during the earlier tortures. A shiver swept through his lean form as the Llolth-gifted healing invaded his system, mending torn skin, bruised muscles, aching joints, cracked ribs.

"I know what you tried to do," the drow before him continued, his tone calmer, but his skin still hot with the power of his emotions. "You tried to rob me of tomorrow's victory over you in battle, by tricking my sister into killing you tonight."

Drizzt flicked his tongue over the parched skin of his lips. He wondered if the drow was mad. "I do not know you." His own voice was rougher than he remembered, despite the potion of healing he had swallowed. "I have no cause to rob you or to fight you, and much cause to wish for the quickest death I can find." Lavender eyes met those of his assailant without fear or anger.

The other drow's lips pulled back from his teeth. It was not a smile. "I am Dantrag Baenre; Elderboy and Weapon-master of house Baenre. I am the best fighter to never cross swords with Zaknafein Do'Urden. Tomorrow, I will fight you, his prodigy, and silence forever the voices that say I am only the best because Zaknafein is dead."

Perhaps it was the lingering effect of some spell the priestesses of Llolth had cast upon him. Perhaps, after all that they had done to him this day, he no longer had the energy with which to form a lie. Thin lips twisted into the saddest of smiles. "I pity you, Dantrag Baenre." His tone was gentle. "I pity you that you have so little sense of self that you must fight a ghost to have others tell you that you have value."

Dantrag's hand struck with the speed of a snake, palm striking the bottom of Drizzt's jaw, forcing his teeth closed, his head back hard against the wall. He held him there, helpless.

"Pity?" the weapon-master hissed, spit flying from his lips. "You pity me?" His nails dug into the skin of Drizzt's cheek. He pressed the other hand against Drizzt's throat, pushing him firm against the wall. Rough stone scraped against his naked shoulder-blades, though that discomfort fled a moment later, replaced by the all-encompassing pain of Dantrag's knee coming up between Drizzt's legs with all of the warrior's strength. His stomach tried to expel whatever remained of his last meal, and the agony was too intense for him to even cry out.

"I don't want your pity, I want your hate!" Dantrag stepped back and watched as his prisoner gasped and writhed in his chains, trying to curl into a fetal position while held upright.

"I do not hate you." Drizzt's voice was once again reduced to a hoarse whisper.

"You will," Dantrag promised him. "You will."

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"No! It's faded again..." Catti-brie stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, and Artemis almost ran into her. With her attention more on the locket in her hands than the hallways in front of her, she made a slow circle, trying to find her friend with the magical talisman. The hallways and chambers beneath the Baenre complex were as convoluted as a maze.

An unfamiliar tension twisted in his guts as he bit back his frustrated curse and just _waited _for her to find her way again. After what felt like ages, she turned back the way they had come. "This way." She sounded less sure than she had the last time they altered course, and a part of him began to despair.

_Some times it feels I have spent half of my life searching for this cursed ranger,_ he thought. The idea brought him no comfort at all.


	2. The touch of hate

Title: Phlith Uns'aa (Hate Me)

Chapter: 2 The touch of hate  
Author: LadyJanelly  
Fandom: Forgotten Realms

Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms or any characters, lands, or items from the TSR world. They belong to their respective copyright holders.  
Archive: Yes, but please tell me where.  
Rating: NC-17 overall  
Warnings: Slash, violence, violent rape, damaged people behaving in dysfunctional ways.

Summary: An AU that begins when Drizzt is captured and tortured in the Baenre complex during Starless Night. How far will Dantrag Baenre go to make sure Drizzt lives to fight him, and how far will another go to save him?

Notes: I like dark-vision as heat-vision, so it's written that way.

The blow to his face was hard enough to stun him, and before he was aware of it, Dantrag had turned him to face the wall, the chains on his wrists crossing above his head. Black fingers tangled and gripped in his white hair, and his face was smashed against the rough wall. He felt his nose break, and blood flow hot down his chin and chest.

" Tlun usstan phlithus?" The weapon-master's voice was dark, menacing, and...eager. "Do you hate me yet?" his hand held Drizzt tight to the wall. Drizzt heard the soft rasp of a dagger being unsheathed, and he began to struggle, twisting and fighting Dantrag's grasp.

The sharp slash began just above his hip on one side, cutting down through the waistband of his breeches, through suede and skin, and ended just above the back of his knee. His breath came in a harsh gasp, and his hands twisted against each other. His lips parted, but he denied Dantrag the pleasure of his scream. Another slash; quick, efficient, cut down his clothing and flesh on the other side. A shove of Dantrag's hand against the leather, and he was naked to the knees, the heat of his blood running down the backs of his legs.

"Nau," The voice didn't sound like his own, that voice beginning to beg Dantrag to stop. The other Drow's finger stroked along the wound where it crossed his left buttock. His near nakedness awoke new fear in him. "Nau....Qualla...." His voice was louder this time, and he could feel desperation rising in his chest.

"Tlun usstan phlithus?" Dantrag asked again, his voice a husky whisper. Drizzt swallowed, the sound loud in the utter quiet of the room.

"Siyo," he whispered. "Yes. I hate you."

Dantrag laughed, his voice beautiful, yet it projected menace instead of joy. "Oh, Drizzt," he chuckled. "I don't believe you."

At the silent moments that followed, Drizzt tried to turn to see Dantrag, but the dark hand held his face still pressed against the wall. He tried to kick, but the angle was wrong, and his bare foot hit the weapon-master's hip instead of his vulnerable crotch.

Then Dantrag leaned against him, and he felt that the other Drow had lowered his own leggings. He pushed against Drizzt; hot, hard. Fear clawed it's way up Drizzt's throat, threatening to choke him.

"Make me believe it," Dantrag whispered in his pointed ear, his voice low, mockingly seductive. "Make me believe it and this will all stop." His hand ran over the wound on Drizzt's flank again, and he pulled away for just a moment. When he pushed back, his hardness was wet, slick. _My blood..._ it was the last thought that came coherent through the fear and pain..._He is slick with my blood..._

And then the body that had never known the touch of love was pierced by the touch of hate, a fierce burn that seemed to tear him in half. Drizzt screamed aloud, the raw sound echoing through the small room. His wrists bled on the shackles as he tried to pull himself up and away from Dantrag's assault, but the other Drow held him by his hips, short nails leaving their marks on the inky skin.

"Hate me," Dantrag whispered, the seductive lilt of his voice belying the fact that the body he was thrusting into was torn by his actions.

"Hate me," he urged, as his hand reached around to crush Drizzt's flaccid member in his fist.

"Hate me," he moaned as the need for release built inside of him, as hot tears coursed down Drizzt's face, as he licked the side of his victim's throat in a mockery of an erotic gesture.

"Siyo!" Dantrag grinned as he heard the word ripped from Drizzt's throat. This; this was what he had been waiting for. "Siyo! Usstan phlith dos!"

Drizzt's world had narrowed to the pain, the shame, the feel of Dantrag's hands upon him and the violation of his body. "Usstan phlith dos." He cried out again, some stubborn part of him insisting that Dantrag would honor his promise to stop once he believed it.

And then a sound pulled him back into the world, to hope, to courage. The bang of the torture chamber door being kicked open, the splintering of wood at the lock, the clash of weapons as Dantrag's cohort met the intruders.

"Shoot, woman!" The harsh voice cut through Drizzt's torment, and in that moment he knew that this day had taken his sanity, that he was indeed mad. The voice shouting orders could /not/ be Artemis Entreri. "Gods damn you, shoot!" The assassin could not, would not come here, and certainly not to storm the Baenre complex to rescue him. A macabre laugh bubbled from his lips.

Usstan phlith dos. -- I hate you. 

Nau -- no

Siyo -- yes

Qualla -- please

Tlun usstan phlithus? -- Am I hated?


	3. Follow you down

**"This is not your momma's hurt/comfort. "**

Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms or any characters, lands, or items from the TSR world. They belong to their respective copyright holders..  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Slash, violence, violent rape, damaged people behaving in dysfunctional ways. Mentions of child abuse.

Summary: An AU that begins when Drizzt is captured and tortured in the Baenre complex during Starless Night. How far will Dantrag Baenre go to make sure Drizzt lives to fight him, and how far will another go to save him?

Note: Sorry. I try. I still cannot find any liking of Catti-bree in my heart. Tell me if I take her too far out of character.

**Thank you so much for the reviews, people. It really gives me motivation to keep writing it down instead of just letting this story live in my head. I really appreciate it.**

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88--88--88--88--

The sound of a scream echoed down the halls, and Entreri felt the click in his mind that signaled the shift into his working self. The pale wraiths of his emotions fell away from him, to drift behind in some other place where they could not touch or comment on the acts he was about to commit. He felt stronger, quicker, as if the fire of his spirit was burning brighter.

The door was not meant to hold a prisoner within; anyone who was brought here would be in chains, or otherwise no threat to the woodwork. Entreri's kick shattered the doorframe around the lock, sending the door crashing against the wall, where it hung at a sad angle from it's damaged hinges.

The scent of the room slid through him, the ghost of another time, another place. The odors assailed his senses, each one with it's own connection to his memories; the mingling of sweat and pain, the blend of sex and blood. For half a heartbeat, he was not here, he was in that Calimport back alley, and it was his blood, his sex, his pain and sweat.

Then a young-seeming drow moved to intercept him, in that split-second after the door broke, and he was once again in the Baenre torture chamber; unhurt, unafraid, and there was a job to be done.

Professional eyes surveyed the room as he raised his weapons against his attacker. Against the far wall, a dressed and armored drow looked over his shoulder, crimson eyes wide at the interruption. Beyond him, Entreri could see only white hair, black skin and a worrisome amount of blood.

"Shoot, woman!" he shouted as the expected glowing arrows failed to appear. He spared half a glance at her, caught an impression of wide blue eyes and a body frozen in horror at what she was seeing. "Gods damn you, shoot!"

The young drow attempted another slash at his face, opening a hair-thin scratch in his cheek. He returned the favor with a cut that opened the dark throat from ear to ear. A streak of light shot past him as his opponent fell, choking on his own blood, to the stone floor. The arrow struck not the drow who was roughly disengaging himself from his victim, but instead the bracket holding the battered dark-elf to the wall.

Metal and stone parted ways with a sharp ping, and the rescue party saw a flash of lavender eyes, white teeth, as Drizzt spun, his elbow catching his tormenter in the right temple as he twisted. The other drow stumbled back, bringing up a hand to defend himself, and Drizzt swung the bracket-laden chain at his head. His hands were fast, faster than any mundane creature's had a right to be, and he blocked the chain, but not the sweep of the bracket, and the square of metal struck him a hard blow on the side of his face.

Drizzt kicked him in his unclothed, unarmored crotch as Entreri and Catti-bree watched, and the drow fell. No shred of sanity could be seen in the lavender eyes as Drizzt capitalized on the moment of weakness, swinging the chain with precision over and over again, smashing skull, jaw, cheekbone. The body before him moved less with each blow, until he stopped raising his hands against the violence, stopped trying to roll out of the way, until his head was nothing but blood and bone and the grey of his brains were clinging to the chain and spread on the stones of the floor.

The drow was long dead before Drizzt stopped striking the corpse and stood staring at it, his breath ragged in his chest, his knees trembling with the effort of standing. Aching quiet filled the room for a moment, and then Catti-Bree was vomiting by the door.

Entreri watched as lavender eyes scanned the room, wild and unseeing. Drizzt swayed and Entreri caught him before he hit the stones. The black skin was warm to the touch, too warm, and slick with sweat and blood. The ranger's eyes met his, and he felt a strange shiver move through him. _He is hurt... _a long silent voice in the back of his mind whispered. _He is no otherworldly being, he is no embodiment of his martial style...he is only a man, and he can be hurt...Like me. _Entreri slowly lowered himself and the limp drow to the floor, resting the tangled and matted hair on his thigh. The elf was lighter than he ever would have expected, _fragile..._ He cut off that line of thought too.

A quick glance at the door showed him Catti-bree, still standing and staring, her blue eyes too wide, too bright. He felt a snarl pulling at his lip for her weakness. She should have caught her friend, she should be cradling Drizzt's head in her lap, and not him. He glanced around the room again and spotted the tray of potions on the table.

"You!" he snapped at Catti-bree, and she jumped. "Get me that tray, look for his gear, and keep an eye on the damn door." Trusting that his command would be obeyed, he looked back down at Drizzt. _The objective,_ he reminded himself, as he began to inventory the dark elf's hurts.

"Why?" For a moment he couldn't even register that Drizzt had attempted to make a word, then the noise was repeated and he read the dark lips.

"Why what?" he returned, more to keep the drow talking than for any joy he found in the conversation. Drizzt moved his arm in a feeble attempt to pull away, and from the way his hand flopped, Entreri knew the manacles had broken his wrist. "Be still," he ordered, trying to straighten the limb to aid the healing potion that had better be on that tray.

"Why what?" he repeated, trying to keep Drizzt's attention, keep him conscious. Catti-bree brought the tray and he began going through bottles, looking for the symbol for healing that Jarlaxle had taught him.

Drizzt licked his lips, gathering his strength. "Why are you here?"

Entreri looked anywhere but at those lavender eyes. Once was enough, _the pain in those eyes..._ _no, once was more than enough_. "I want to go back to the surface," his voice was toneless, empty. "You're my guide." The lavender eyes blinked, slow and lazy and barely aware.


	4. Into the black

Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms or any characters, lands, or items from the TSR world. They belong to their respective copyright holders..  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Slash, violence, violent rape, damaged people behaving in dysfunctional ways. Mentions of child abuse.

The air was too still, here in the underdark. She had never been as aware of it as now, with the smell of blood too strong in the room, and the taste of her own vomit still on her lips. Catti-brie glanced back down the hall, watching for a response to their intrusion. The way was still quiet, and she glanced back into the room, to where her friend lay sprawled on the floor in the care of his greatest enemy.

Entreri returned the glance, his grey eyes smoldering with resentment. _I should be there,_ she thought, _I should be the one holdin' me friend. _And yet, she couldn't seem to make her feet take her to Drizzt's side. She watched as Entreri sorted through the bottles until he found a potion he seemed to like. He tipped Drizzt's head back and, with a gesture that struck her as almost gentle, moved the drow's broken nose into place before pouring the potion between his dark lips.

Drizzt coughed and tried to turn his head, but the assassin held him still. Catti-brie shuddered. She had seen Drizzt wounded before, had seen him hurt, but nothing like this deliberate and horrible torture. She had never thought to find him naked and bloodied like this.

The assassin pulled a tiny piece of metal from his boot and bent over Drizzt's wrists for a moment. First one, then the other, of the harsh manacles fell to the floor, open.

"Where is his gear?" Entreri asked, half-lifting Drizzt to a sitting position. His body was looking better as the healing potion began to work, but his eyes--his eyes were still pained, and distant. Somehow it seemed to Catti-brie that it was more heartless to use the potions, to heal his body while his soul was still in tatters; but of course they had no time for such things.

"It's not here," she told him. She averted her eyes from her friend's nakedness. The assassin frowned but didn't curse, and then left Drizzt's side to begin stripping the armor, weapons and clothing off of the drow whose throat he had slit.

"Get dressed," he ordered, passing the clothes over first, "We need to move. Now." Drizzt took them, and after a short pause began to dress his blood streaked body in the damp black silk. Over that went a thin layer of padding, and then a shirt of light chain. The suit was finished with slim metal leg greaves, bracers, and a piece that covered his shoulders and most of his upper chest. With every layer of protection, every layer of armor, he seemed stronger, more determined.

While Drizzt dressed, Entreri set himself to stripping the other corpse, the body of Drizzt's attacker. His hands were quick, efficient, sliding the drow's bracers onto his own arms, quickly checking the dead elf's sword, then passing sword and sheath to Drizzt. Between the two dead ones, he had a pair of almost-matching weapons. They weren't scimitars, but they would do.

Entreri acquired the rest of the unrecognizable drow's possessions, bundling up his clothing, and stuffing some small things she didn't see into his pack.

Grey eyes met lavender, and Entreri nodded to the door. With deadly grace, the duo headed towards her, so alike, so dangerous.

As the two men moved into the hallway , Catti-brie looked at her friend, and saw him as a drow for the first time; cold, hard, empty. Sorrow stabbed at her heart. For all her effort, for all Entreri's help, they had been too late, and she knew it.


	5. Clash

Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms or any characters, lands, or items from the TSR world. They belong to their respective copyright holders..  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Slash, violence, violent rape, damaged people behaving in dysfunctional ways. Mentions of child abuse.

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Sweat dripped from his hair, ran down his forehead and stung his eyes. His shoulders burned from the weight of his sword and dagger, from this endless-seeming fight. Artemis Entreri was a man well-used to combat, to killing, to bloodshed. He would gladly have pitted his endurance against any opponent, be it man, elf or dwarf. What he was not and had never been was a soldier. The never-ending night filled with skirmish after skirmish was wearing him down in a way he had never experienced before.

His only consolation was that the ranger and the woman were as fatigued as he was. The cat had been summoned, fought until it was too worn and wounded to fight on, and the woman dismissed it again. As they hid in a narrow crack in the caves beyond Menzoberanzan, her hand on the bow shook with exhaustion; the drow's black skin ran with sweat. Against his will, Entreri's eyes tracked a bead of sweat down the graceful throat to where it disappeared under the cool steel armor.

Something had changed, and it disturbed him. Even exhausted as he was, he felt his pulse rate increase as he watched his dark companion. He felt unsettled, vulnerable. He wanted to slit that warm throat, see the hot spill of his blood, see the life die in his eyes; anything to feel safe again. He would do anything to not face this black uncertainty, these unnamable desires. _Well, anything that would not result in dying here, alone in the underdark._

Drizzt's lavender eyes glanced from whatever he was watching for in the passageway outside their hiding hole, past the woman, and over to Entreri.

His eyes must have still been following that bead of sweat. His face must have betrayed something of his hatred, or the new turn his obsession with the ranger had taken, because he saw the drow's face flush with warmth at the sight of him, lips pulling back from his teeth in an expression that was not a smile.

"Did it please you?" he hissed. The woman glanced from Drizzt on her left to Entreri on her right, then flattened herself tight against the wall, getting as far out from between them as possible in the tightness of their hiding spot.

"Did what please me?" Entreri returned, his voice cold, hard, but not loud.

"Finding me like that. Defeated. Broken, used. Was it everything you had always dreamed?" his lip curled in a sneer, his fine brow furrowed in anger. Even in his pain, there was an awful beauty about him.

The taste of bile rose in Entreri's throat, the smell of that room was too fresh in his memory; the smell of that alley too clear, too real.

"No." His voice came out in a croak that embarrassed him. "No," he said again, this time under more control. He could see in the ranger's eyes that he did not believe. Without knowing why he was bothering, he found himself making words of explanation. "I wanted you defeated, yes, but by my hand, no other." _Did I fear this from our first meeting?_ He had to ask himself. _Did I want him even then? Was it just easier to hate him than ..._

His hands ached to wrap themselves around that slender throat, to choke Drizzt until his soul fled. He felt ill. That room. That alley. The two images blurred, overlapped. A drow, surrounded by drow; a darkhaired human boy, surrounded by men that were urging each other on. Pain, blood. His, Drizzt's.

"But I didn't want you hurt like that. _Never_ like that." He shook his head, trying to clear it. Lavender eyes narrowed, cutting into his soul. He felt like all his walls, all his masks, had been ripped away, like his secrets were written on his skin for the world to read.

But then the drow sneered at him again. "Usstan phlith dos." He hissed, and turned his back on his two companions, staring moodily back up the passage.

He had done this several times over the past day. Somehow he sensed the pursuit before they were overtaken. No matter how silent the drow trackers were, he knew they were there, and each time they were able to set some sort of surprise or ambush.

Silent shapes moved through the passage beyond the ranger; lean, large. They were cool to his darkvision, except for their drow riders. Half a dozen mounted lizards passed their hiding spot, their heads moving back and forth, their forked tongues flicking out to sense the air. Entreri thought they would continue on, that their exhausted trio would avoid this last fight, but then Drizzt was moving, leaping from hiding at the last in the troop, mismatched blades flashing through the air.

Silver arrows split the air, and then Entreri was in the fray also. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he would not long survive the ranger's death, and if he was not there to watch Drizzt's back, the ranger would die before this combat was finished.

The drow had always fought with his heart, with his love for his friends, his conviction that he was doing the right thing. Now he fought with his hatred, his anger. One by one he would engage the enemy. They once may have been matched, but in this state, he could easily have won a duel with the assassin. He seemed stronger, faster, more focused, than ever before. The problem was that he was too focused. He wanted to cut, to fight, to hurt. He fought like a man possessed, or a man sure that he did not want to live to see the next day.

Entreri's purpose had become to watch the drow's back, to guard his blind spots, to keep the enemy between them and catti-brie's deadly bow. _Killing is so much easier than protecting,_ he sighed to himself as Drizzt slipped between a lizard and the wall, slicing its saddle-strap as he went by, sending its rider down in a tangle of leather. Before the hapless soldier could recover, Drizzt's straight blades had crossed beneath his chin, opening his throat from ear to ear.

A silver arrow slammed into another lizard. It went into a squirming spasm as it died, crushing its rider against the floor. Another approached, lizard snapping sharp teeth at him as the rider loaded a hand-held crossbow.

"Do'Urden!" Entreri hissed. From the corner of his eye he could see the ranger had rolled his latest kill onto his side, stabbing a dagger up between the front and back plates of the drow's armor. His long blades were not in his hands, and Entreri did not know where they had gone. Drizzt didn't even look up as the menacing creature scurried closer.

"Do'Urden!" Entreri raised his voice in desperation. He slashed at the lizard's eyes, and it slid a clear membrane over them to protect them. The rider leveled the crossbow at Drizzt's back and pulled the trigger.

"Drizzt!" Entreri shouted.

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Reviewer request: Trying to show internal conflict is difficult. Did this chapter make sense? 


	6. Fall

Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms or any characters, lands, or items from the TSR world. They belong to their respective copyright holders..  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Slash, violence, violent rape, damaged people behaving in dysfunctional ways. Mentions of child abuse.

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_Harder! Faster! Deeper! _Nothing mattered but the feel of steel sliding into flesh, the face of the young soldier, his dead eyes staring off down the passageway as the warmth of his blood ever-so-slowly fled from his skin, the feel of his lithe body between Drizzt's knees.

Pressure built up behind his eyes, in his chest, in the pit of his stomach. If he could just push harder, faster, deeper, there would be relief, would be peace. Someone was shouting his name, but it did not matter. A little more, and he would forget about Dantrag for a moment, he would be in control for a moment. Blood slicked the handle of the dagger, and he held it with both hands, relishing the resistance of skin and muscle against the blade, the way he had to angle each thrust up to go deep underneath the ribs instead of clashing against them. His panting was harsh. _So close..._

Right behind his head there was a sharp "_ping"_ of metal hitting metal. A body crashed into his, sending him sprawling from his prey. An avalanche of anger rolled through him, and he hit the interloper hard, tackling him to the ground. A silver arrow split the air above them. He struck the assassin across the face with his fist then rolled him over onto his stomach. There he pinned him to the ground with one hand gripping hard into his hair, the other hand holding one arm behind Entreri's back.

The sense of power returned; warming him, strengthening him. Entreri struggled beneath him, his slender body twisting as he fought for his freedom. _So slender...so like an elf..._

* * *

He caught the tiny crossbow bolt on the flat of his sword, deflecting it away. In the process he crashed into the ranger, and they both fell, only to rise again half a heartbeat later.

_No one could be this fast,_ he thought, as the blood-slicked fist struck him, and he found himself face-down and helpless on the rough slate of the passageway. His mouth opened in pain as his shoulder was wrenched back, but no sound slipped from his lips. He knew when to stop struggling, and lay still but tense as the drow leaned low over him. He felt more than heard the soft inhale of breath as Drizzt pressed his face to Entreri's hair and breathed in the scent of his pain, his adrenaline. Strong knees gripped his hips, and desperation rose in his throat. It was too much; it had been too long since he had been so vulnerable.

And then he felt a shift in his mind, similar to the disconnect that took place when he began to work, but deeper, stronger. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. He felt safe, or as safe as he ever did. The only thing at risk was his body, and if he could be in control, he would risk his flesh to save the walls that kept his soul whole.

* * *

"Do it." Entreri hissed under him. "Do it or get away from me." The human shifted his hips, and Drizzt increased the pressure on the captured wrist. The assassin's face twisted with pain, and Drizzt watched, fascinated by the sense of power.

"Drizzt," Catti-brie was calling him as she moved closer. "Drizzt, let him up."

Entreri didn't respond to her, and to Drizzt she was too separate from this, from his need for release, for him to bother listening to her.

"Drizzt, ye're hurtin' him." Desperation was growing in her voice, yet it seemed so far away, so distant, even as he felt the tendons of the assassin's wrist twisted almost to the breaking point. The hair gripped in his other hand was damp with sweat, yet still soft between Drizzt's fingers. It distracted him for a moment, and his grip on the imprisoned wrist loosened enough for the assassin to take a breath.

His breath caught again as pain shot through his arm and shoulder. Drizzt watched impassively at the reactions to the pain he was causing. Everything was so sharp, so real; the warmth of the assassin's body between his knees, every wince and grimace on his fine-boned face.

Catti-brie crouched in front of him, trying to make him see her, but she wouldn't touch him. Her hand hovered a thumb's width from his elbow and still he ignored her.

_Power..._ Drizzt released the wrist in his grip, but kept the handful of hair. Entreri didn't try to rise. _Power. _The smell of sweat and blood and fear was almost intoxicating. The only sound in the barren tunnels was the sounds of their breathing. Entreri's was coming in harsh, desperate gasps sucked through his teeth. Catti-brie's carried her distress; shallow and trembling and uncertain. Drizzt's own breaths were deep, hungry for life, for freedom, for release.

Again, the woman's voice broke the quiet. "Drizzt, ye need to be callin' Guen."

He frowned at her, distracted from his prisoner for the first time. A dark light flashed in his lavender eyes.

"She's hurt. She has to rest." He could not call Guenhyvar, could not let her see him like this; out of control, dark. _Drow._ To have the oldest of his friends lose her love for him was the last thing he could not bear. It took all of his willpower, but he opened his hand, let the soft dark strands fall free. He stood, and that was easier; took the first step away from Entreri, and felt more himself, more in control of his unnamed desires.

Catti-brie took a step away from him, and he saw fear in her eyes. Pain stabbed him anew, though he could not speak, knowing he had deserved that look. Entreri rolled over and stretched his neck and shoulder, checking himself for injury.

When the assassin seemed well, Drizzt offered him a hand, and pulled him to his feet.

"Strip the bodies of anything we can use," Entreri said to no one in particular, and all three began searching the corpses for food, water-skins, clean cloths and potions. No eye contact was made between them, and none of them touched the body Drizzt had so thoroughly mangled.


	7. Touch

Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms or any characters, lands, or items from the TSR world. They belong to their respective copyright holders.  
Warnings: Slash, violence, violent rape, damaged people behaving in dysfunctional ways.

* * *

Catti-brie slept, bow in hand and her pack for a pillow. Drizzt, on watch, lurked above them on a narrow ledge. Entreri leaned back against a stalagmite, and closed his eyes, trying to still his mind and quiet the aches of his body enough to allow him a moment's rest. His only comfort was the fact that the drow seemed to be leading them away from Menzoberanzan. It had been many hours since they fought the lizard-riders, and no other hunters had caught up with them since.

He massaged a tender wrist as he tried to relax. The ranger was mad, he could see that, but would be the last to blame him. Hadn't he had his own dark and desperate days? _Survival, _he reminded himself; _survival is all that matters._ And survive he had, finding his sense of control in the blood and deaths of others, until it had become the easiest course for him to adopt death and killing as a profession.

He felt annoyed, and out of sorts. The air around them was silent except for the amplified and echoing plip plip plip of water dripping somewhere. It was too quiet to sleep, and his head ached from viewing the world in darkvision. He would have killed, then, for the light of a single candle, to hear the sounds of the sleeping city of Calimport spreading around him, for a glimpse of the stars above the smoke of a hundred hearth fires.

He closed his eyes again, and when he opened them, Drizzt stood before him, as silent as the rest of the underdark. The drow's eyes were fierce with undisguised emotion, dark with pain and longing.

"Please..." he growled through gritted teeth, and in the language of the wounded, which they both spoke, it meant _I hurt and cannot find peace. _His hands were balled into fists at his side; his feet spread shoulders width apart, as if he were facing an opponent.

"Please..." _Take my pain, give me rest, let me use you for a moment's oblivion..._

"Damn you," Entreri replied, _how dare you ask this, how dare you tempt me to vulnerability, how can you force me to choose this? _He was quiet so as not to wake the sleeping woman. Neither of them wanted a witness to this. He wanted to rise, to fight, to make the Drow pay in blood for what he would take, yet he knew he could not. A combat here between them could only end two ways; with himself beaten and used regardless of his decision or he would kill the ranger and spend his last days wandering in the blackness until he fell to hunger or the hunters.

Something wavered behind the lavender eyes, and as Entreri hesitated, Drizzt stepped back, anguish on his face.

"Forgive me," his voice was a harsh rasp, _To break you would break me; I should shatter alone..._

Entreri was on his feet before he could stop himself, before he could question his intentions. His hand reached out, as if by its own will, and rested on the drow's shoulder. Drizzt trembled beneath his touch, though it seemed more from the effort of restraining himself rather than from fear. The ranger's eyes bored into his, and he had no doubts what those eyes asked of him.

"Damn you, do it." He hissed, and the drow turned him away, pushed him down. The rocky ground below him was real, and sharp; the hands roughly tearing his breeches down seemed distant by contrast, unreal, as if they were on another person, and not him. His breath came in harsh pants, matched by the drow's gasps behind him. He realized that he was hard. Drizzt pulled his hips up and pushed his head down. Slender fingers once more tangled in his hair.

He waited for the panic to rise in his chest, but somehow the drow's grip, secure, possessive, made him feel safe instead. Or numb. Regardless, he did not fight it, did not protest as he was pressed into. His body tensed of its own accord, and Drizzt pulled back again, spitting into his hand and spreading it over himself. He pressed in again and it was easier, at least for one of them.

Entreri's lips parted, his stomach clenched. And still it was as if another knelt in his place, taking the brunt of the drow's pain, his anger.

"Usstan phlith dos." The words were whispered into the darkness. "Usstan phlith dos."

In three quick thrusts it was over, as Drizzt spilled into him with the quietest of moans. A heavy hand pushed against the small of Enterri's back as Drizzt pulled out a heartbeat later. His hair was released. Neither made a sound. Stumbling footsteps moved away a few paces, and Entreri reached a hand down beneath himself, giving relief to the needs of his body.

Drizzt's voice was soft, and calm when he spoke. "When you're able, we need to move again. The scent will bring company." His tone was not unkind.

* * *

In that moment of release, he found himself again; found his center, his sanity. The pain left him, so suddenly that it made him dizzy. In that moment, he realized what he was doing, the pain he was causing. Nobody deserved what he had gone through, nobody deserved what he had just done, not even a cold-blooded assassin who killed for money.

Shamed, he pulled away; wincing as Entreri flinched, knowing he had caused more pain. _Forgive me,_ he wanted to ask. He wanted to touch his back in reassurance, wanted to comfort this man who had taken his pain away.

_He's not your lover;_ he reminded himself, stepping back and turning away. _He's not even your friend. _

"When you're able, we need to move again. The scent will bring company." He couldn't bring himself to look back, to see what he had done. "I'll scout the way."


	8. Useless

Disclaimers and crap: See previous posts.

* * *

It hurt. He moved himself up to his knees, and reached a hand behind, feeling wetness. It was impossible to tell how much of it was blood without the colors of true light, but he didn't think it would be an impediment. It didn't hurt as much as he remembered, but that had been twenty years ago; he had been a child, and they were men, or close enough that it didn't matter.

Straightening, he pulled up his leggings. He suppressed a wince.

"If ye touch him again I'll be killin' ye," the woman's voice was like steel, cold and hard. The claim was too ludicrous, for a variety of reasons. He laughed.

"Is that so?" He straightened misaligned armor, retied his leather belt.

The heat of her eyes narrowed to white-hot slits. Entreri's laugh faltered to a curse as she pulled a well-known figurine from the pack she had been using as a pillow.

"Guenhyvar," she called, urgency in her soft tones.

Mist coalesced into form and Entreri took a step back, hand reaching for his weapon. The animal looked worse than he felt; dragging one injured leg behind it, blood and scabs matting the sleek fur from a dozen wounds.

He never took his eyes from the cat's glowing yellow orbs. "This serves neither of us, woman."

The cat's ears flattened back against its head and an eerie growl sounded from its chest. He could hear the creak of cord against wood and knew there was an arrow aimed at his heart. He scrambled through his options to bring this to a quick conclusion, and one that would leave everyone alive. Words seemed the best weapon for the job.

"Think. He'll know you've killed me, or that I've killed you. Either way he's left with fewer to watch his back, less chance of surviving this. You don't want to be the cause of his death, do you? After all we've done to get him out alive?"

He licked his lips. The day's strain was beginning to show.

The archer's voice trembled with emotion. "If he comes for ye again, ye'll be tellin' him no, are ye hearin' me? He's not yours to touch."

The cat's breathing was labored. Entreri could see it was on the last of its energy. It still looked formidable enough to distract him while the woman pinned him to the walls with an arrow.

Entreri sighed, the last of his patience spent. "If he's yours to touch you should have done it a long time ago." He turned and walked the way Drizzt had left, waiting to feel claws or an arrow tear into his back. Adrenaline flowing, he could ignore the pain of his injury, that too-familiar burning ache.

In the quiet, he heard the woman whisper to the cat to return home, then her rapid footsteps as she hurried to catch up to him.

* * *

A booted foot fell heavily against the ribs of the boy-who-no-longer-was. He squeezed his eyes tighter shut, and rolled over, hiding his face in the urine-stained rags that he and Esom shared as a bed. The room was small, and the roof leaked, but it was better than sleeping in an alley or a gutter, and when the winter chill came the rags were warm and mostly dry.

"Hey, Useless, wake up. I want to _go_ again." Esom's voice cut through the dreamsmoke that soothed his senses, dulled the pain, and eased his memories. The booted foot returned, tapping the same spot on his bony spine over and over until he rolled back over again. Esom was older, bigger, and stronger. It was his room, and Useless tried to keep him happy.

"Esom, 'm bleedin'," he mumbled, pulling thin arms to cover his ribs. The dreamsmoke was fading. He felt the burn and the ache where Esom had hurt him earlier. "Please, I can't. Leave me be."

The next kick was savage in its force and its target. His head snapped back, upper and lower lip split and bleeding from the impact. Grey eyes flashed open. His mind reeled. Esom was not the green youth he remembered from his childhood. It was as if Esom had lived past their final encounter, as if he had never stabbed his daggers into those too-pale eyes and pushed until he felt his blades sink past the thin bone there and into the softness of his betrayer's brain.

_This cannot be..._he looked down at his hands and found them the scarred and calloused fingers of a man who lived by the blade. But compared to Esom's, they were tiny, _the hands of a child._

Esom's giant-large hand reached down, grabbing he-who-was-a-child's wrist, twisting as he drew him to his feet. The small one reached down, searching for a weapon, for his jeweled dagger, for his sword, but he found nothing but his meager rags.

With a crash, the door was kicked in. Men; they were like monsters, as huge to him-now as they were to him-then. They were angry at Esom. He owned them money, for the dreamsmoke, for loans, for time with their girls, and their boys. They said he had three more days to get the money, and they were going to break his left hand now to make sure he did not forget it, to make sure he stood as an example to others who would borrow what they did not plan to return.

Esom's eyes were wide, panicked. He was afraid for the first time, the only time, that he-who-had-survived could remember. He begged them for time, for mercy. In the end he tried to bargain with them, but his only asset was Useless, of no value. But neither was a broken hand, so they took Useless, dragging him by his arm as he cried for Esom to keep him, to save him. He was not a child, but he could not save himself, he could not stop himself from crying, from begging.

He was on the ground, on the cold cobblestones of the alley. A body was pressing him down, and he struggled, desperate to escape. "No." He hissed through clenched teeth. "No, no, no..."

"Entreri." And it was not the name Esom had given him, but the name he had chosen for himself. Strong fingers held his wrists, containing him but not hurting him.

"Get off of me," he growled, going tense as a bowstring. Now, as then, he felt his heart grow cold and hard as stone. "Get off of me, Do'Urden."


	9. Whore

Disclaimers and crap: See previous posts.

A/N Yeah, it's short. The chapter had to be cut there, though. Hopefully the next will come soon.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" The drow frowned at him, but there was that hunger again behind they eyes, the hunger that had been growing all "day" as they traveled. They had found a tiny waterfall and decided to rest for a while and clean the stench of blood off. By unspoken agreement, they had been taking turns in the slight privacy afforded by the last bend in the tunnel before the dead end that held the water source. Entreri had clearly violated that agreement by following Drizzt here.

"I've seen your eyes," Entreri said, not an actual answer to the question. "I've seen your eyes and I know what you need."

Drizzt shook his head and took another step back towards the wall. He had taken off his armor, but not yet his clothing. Damp and crumpled silk clung to his graceful legs, his slender hips, the muscular chest. Entreri wondered if he had been gathering his courage to be naked again for the first time since the torture chamber.

"I don't. I can't, I won't." Lavender eyes refused to meet the steel-colored ones.

The assassin exhaled in a sharp breath. "You do, you can, and you will, sooner or later." He felt like he was bartering himself away for safe passage, like he was selling what he had never willingly given.

_I'd whore you out if you weren't so ugly..._Esom's words whispered in the back of his mind. _You could make me some money if you weren't so bad at it._ The feeling of disconnection was growing, and he felt almost as surprised at the words he spoke as the drow must have.

"You hurt." It was not a question, and Entreri unbuckled his sword belt, laying the weapons close at hand. "You need to be free, if even for a little while." Drizzt looked away, turning his head from the sight of the man shrugging the chain shirt off of his shoulders.

_I'll be damned if I'll do that again with my armor riding up the back of my neck,_ Entreri thought. He was amused by the idea, but the smile never made it to his face. His body felt cold to himself, distant. He could feel a vague tingle in his fingertips.

If Drizzt had not touched him first, he would never do this, but he had. Now he could see the pressure building. He remembered that look in Esom's eyes, sometimes when life became too hectic for him touch Useless. That hunger, building, until it finally broke through all other considerations and Esom took him, hurt him more than usual. _Better now than later..._

"You can wait," his voice was flat and cold. Step by step he walked, still dressed, towards where Drizzt huddled in on himself against the wall. "Let it build, the pain, the anger..." He was close enough to smell the drow's sweat, mixed with the blood of them both and countless of their enemies.

"Do you want to wait until you lose the last of your control? Til you cannot stop yourself from taking me, hurting me?" The ranger shivered yet still would not raise his eyes.

Feeling numb, he turned his back on his enemy and sank slowly to his knees. His mind could not focus on the past, the future, or even the present. He felt blank, empty.

He waited, jaw clenched, back tense. He had said all that he could say. Any more words and he would lose his nerve. A soft sound was behind him. He held his breath, and waited.


	10. Scar

Disclaimers and crap: See previous posts.

-----------

Entreri was still as a statue, kneeling on the rough rocky ground. His booted heels touched each other. Hands rested on his thighs, and he waited. Drizzt stared at his back for long moments, struggling with his desires, his needs. He reached slender fingers out, but stopped them a breath away from the sleek softness of the dark hair in front of him. For all that the assassin seemed calm, strong, Drizzt knew he was a person, that he felt pain, perhaps even fear.

_I cannot do this..._ he told himself. His fingers trembled with need. The hunger welled up inside of him, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. He swallowed and stepped closer. He knew that he could not hold out forever. Sooner or later, he _would_ do this. He touched the soft hair in front of him, so incongruous on such a hard man.

He felt, rather than heard, the man's sharp intake of breath. It was written in the way his shoulders rose, his spine straightened a little more. He tangled his fingers in that soft hair, clenching firm at the nape of his neck. Entreri went still in his grip, some of the tension left his posture. He could not begin to guess what went on in the man's mind, he was only glad that this was given to him, that he was not taking something that wasn't offered at all.

He sank to his knees behind Entreri. _If he can chose to take this, I can chose to do it now, while I have the control to not be a beast, a monster....a drow._

With his free hand, he stroked the strong shoulder. His hand was firm yet slow.

"Just do it." Entreri's voice was tight, as his composure began to fray around the edges. The linen of his shirt slid a little under the graceful elven fingers.

The scar was old. In another place, under true light, it would have been easy to overlook. But blood never moves the same when the vessels have been crushed and torn, no matter how much time passes. It wouldn't have shown to true light, but darkvision showed Drizzt the mirrored arch of a human bite at the place where Entreri's neck met his shoulder.

He traced the old mark with the tips of his fingers.

"Stop." Hissed Entreri. Drizzt shivered. He tightened his grip on the dark hair for a moment, and to him it felt more like he was reassuring the man instead of threatening him. Something began to shift. The hunger eased, he began to see beyond his pain again. He bent low, running his lips over the scar, flicking out his tongue to better feel its shape, to know its taste.

"I'll kill you." Entreri promised. "I will kill you for this." Yet he didn't struggle, he didn't fight the touch he claimed he would commit murder to stop.


	11. Air

Disclaimers and crap: See previous posts.

* * *

"I will kill you for this." He wanted to lash out, to strike the drow behind him. He felt dizzy, ill. The strength of his memories was too hard to fight, it took all of his strength. _He could feel the roughness of the bricks of that alley against his face, could hear the harsh laughter of the men as they traded spots behind him. _

_He remembered that he had stopped crying, screaming, just before the bite. He had retreated into the shelter of numbness. They broke him but he was no longer touched by it. And then sharp teeth sank into his skin, cutting, tearing. The new pain drew him back. He screamed as he was forced back into his body and all they had done to him was felt again._

Entreri's defenses against cruelty, intended or otherwise, were strong. There was no hurt the drow could have done him that would have cut through those defenses. Then like a poisoned needle slipping through chain-mail, gentle kisses fell upon the scar. He could have endured any violence, and this smallest act of affection was his undoing.

_There is something wrong with the air..._ he struggled to breathe as Drizzt guided his head to the side. Sword-calloused fingers stroked his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He could not remember such a tender touch in all of his life. His eyes burned.

_There is something wrong with the air..._ His hands were balled into fists so tight that his knuckles hurt. The ranger was saying something quiet behind him, whispering some encouragement, some reassurance, but he couldn't understand the words.

_There is something wrong with the air..._a sound that he didn't recognize slipped from his throat. He blinked his eyes, tried to focus. He wanted to pull away and hide his face, but Drizzt had his hair still held tight. He could not fight that grasp. Narrow tracks of wet heat ran down his cheeks. His chest ached, and his throat closed tight, trying to hold inside the next sound. One more and he would not be able to stop.

Drizzt wrapped his free arm around Entreri's shoulders, pulled him in close and safe against his chest. A hot tear fell against the scar on his shoulder and he felt the drow begin to weep; not from pity but from sorrow. For the assassin, for himself.

For the first time since he had named himself Artemis Entreri, the boy once known as Useless wept.


	12. Comfort

Disclaimers and crap: See previous posts.

Catti-brie paced the narrow passageway. _I should have been stoppin' him,_ she berated herself. _I should have seen him bleed before I let him go to me friend._ A sound echoed along the rock walls and her eyes widened then narrowed. With a colorful dwarven curse she nocked arrow to bowstring and rand towards the waterfall.

The scene that greeted her eyes when she turned that last corner was nothing she had expected. Drizzt and Entreri at each other's throat, she could have foreseen. The sight of Artemis Entreri, master assassin of Calimport, curled up in Drizzt's dark arms, sobbing harsh and hoarse into her friend's shoulder was another thing entirely. His voice was torn by his sobs, as if he was putting everything he had into stopping the sounds and failing. He was like a man who had never learned to weep, or had forgotten so long ago that he had lost the skill. She had seldom seen something so true, so primal.

Her steps faltered to a stop. Entreri seemed so small, so broken. She had never realized how thin he was without the bulk of his armor. Drizzt's eyes met hers over the dark head. In the hour he had been away from her, something had changed in those lavender depths. Pain was there, but it was no longer the burning agony it had been. His cheeks shone with tears, and she realized that they were the first she had seen him shed since she found him again.

Drizzt gave her a soft sad smile, and she smiled back. Hope bloomed in her heart. They would survive this. Drizzt would be well. Somehow she would overcome her dislike of Entreri. Her hatred of the man was hard to maintain in the face of his suffering. Unwilling to interrupt, she pointed to herself, then back the way she came. Drizzt nodded, and she turn around and left.

_All will be well, _she thought, _all will be well._

_------------------_

Entreri lay with his eyes closed, just experiencing the sensation of the warm body in his arms, the scent of Drizzt's hair against his face. They had slept many times since the waterfall, and the assassin had reached a state of almost peaceful existence. No words had been spoken of the incident, yet every time they had stopped to rest since, either Drizzt would come and curl up next to Entreri when his watch was over, or Entreri would do the same.

_Even together, we are so different,_ Entreri mused. Drizzt would only sleep during Catti-brie's watch, when Entreri was with him. The assassin still could not believe that Drizzt felt comforted by his presence, but there seemed no other explanation for why the drow tossed and turned while Entreri was on watch, and not when he was pressed close.

Entreri found himself only able to sleep when Drizzt was away from him. Otherwise he could not stand to waste the few hours he had to enjoy the feel of that body in his arms, the beat of the drow's heart, the slow rise and fall of his chest.

_Enjoy it while it lasts..._ a voice whispered in his head. _He won't need you forever. Sooner or later he will remember who you are, the things you've done... _His fingers itched for the cool of his dagger's hilt. One cut, so quick it would be painless, and Drizzt would never be able to leave him, never be able to hurt him.

_Strike first. _It had been his life's motto. He remembered the others over the years, those who would have hurt him if he'd given them enough time...some were beautiful in his memory, some merely kind. Most were skilled enough with a blade for him to respect them. He had killed them, before they could hurt him; before they could betray him, abandon him. Hells, he had killed them before he had ever been tempted to touch them, or let them touch him.

Drizzt sighed and turned in his arms. Dark fingers covered his own where they rested on the silk-clad waist.

_Later._ He told the fear, the need to protect himself. _Not now. Not yet._

------------

Reviewer request: I know it's quick. Is it good?

Thanks,

-Janelly.


	13. The smell of fresh air

Disclaimers and crap: See previous posts.

* * *

"Is me nose playin' tricks or am I smellin' fresher air?" Catti-brie's smile was hopeful. Drizzt glanced at Entreri. The assassin's eyes were cold.

Drizzt nodded and sliced the bat meat he had brought back from his hunt. He had learned that the less he said about what they were eating, the better the humans stomached it. He had begun identifying their food only as meat, plant or occasionally egg.

Entreri snagged the slice of meat from Drizzt's dagger with his own.

"So?" Cat prompted, interrupting his admiration of the man's graceful movement. "How many more days before we're seein' the sun?"

Drizzt shrugged. "I have yet to see daylight. Sometimes the wind will push fresh air far underground. We will see it when we see it." He glanced back at Entreri. Was that a look of relief that flashed across those fine features before he squelched the expression?

"It could be another ten-day still." He continued. _Beyond doubt, that was relief in his eyes._ Drizzt felt himself frowning with confusion. He had thought the assassin wanted nothing more than to see the surface again, to be done with the underdark and all things drow. It appeared he had been mistaken.

* * *

It was quiet and Drizzt leaned against a rock, listening to the distant drip of water and the breathing of his companions. He heard when Catti-brie woke, though most would have missed the slight noise. He noted with approval that she seemed to be learning more stealth. Perhaps it was the stillness of the underdark that made her not want to be heard.

"My watch." Catti-brie's voice was soft enough to not wake the sleeping man. Drizzt turned and smiled at her, and she rested a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met and she nodded her head towards Entreri.

"Go get some sleep, elf." The affection in her voice spoke volumes. It was something less than approval and something more than acceptance. She saw his need, and saw that Entreri could meet that need, and she would not begrudge her friend his only source of peace.

Drizzt crossed over to the sleeping assassin, quiet as only a drow in the underdark can be. Slow and careful he settled down a hand's width away, just watching the man for long minutes.

In sleep the hard lines of Entreri's face gentled. The curve of his upper lip relaxed from its habitual sneer. The lines between his eyebrows smoothed, and he looked happier, and younger. Beneath the stubble of his cheeks, the muscles of his jaw lost their rigid clench. Still, the journey had been hard on him, perhaps harder than it had been on Catti-brie. His eyes were sunken with exhaustion, and he seemed to Drizzt to be thinner.

_Sleep is just another thing I have taken from him without recompense,_ the drow mused. _I have taken everything and he has asked for nothing..._

Soft-looking lashes fluttered and grey eyes looked up into his. Entreri was not a man who had survived by being a heavy sleeper, and it showed in the speed with which his expression went from soft confusion to hard annoyance.

"What are you doing?" he hissed at Drizzt, the frown and the sneer and the clench to his jaw back on his face like a mask.

The ranger shook his head, and closed his eyes. He deserved that glare, yet he could barely stand to have it turned on him. He felt Entreri's hand on his wrist, and did not resist as he was pulled off balance to kneel; did not fight as he was coaxed to lie down on the sandy spot where they had made their bed this night.

_Where will you go?_ He wanted to ask, but could not find the courage in himself to speak the words. His eyelids were heavy. If Entreri was only sleeping one shift out of three, Drizzt wasn't doing much better.

_His reason for waking is me, _Drizzt accused himself silently as Entreri wrapped around him, pressing his face to the back of the drow's neck. _I take the sleep from him, and he gives it to me..._ the unfairness of it ate at the heart of his honor.

"Artemis..." the name sounded strange in his throat.

"What?" the assassin's voice was no warmer than it had ever been.

"I will not hurt you again," he whispered into the darkness. He felt a shiver run through his body. It had been many days since he had pushed Entreri to his knees, many days since he had almost done it again at the waterfall. He was too afraid of losing his control again to promise, despite the time that had passed since he had been conquered by his need. "If I falter, remind me of these words."

Entreri sighed behind him. "Be quiet and sleep."


	14. Return to the sun

Disclaimers and crap: see first post

A/N Thanks to my reviewers for keeping me motivated on this story. I couldn't do it without you (actually I could, I just wouldn't bother). Thank you for sticking with it.

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Entreri held his fingers laced, his hands made into a stirrup for Drizzt to stand on as he pushed the other's slight weight upwards.

They had found a narrow tunnel that ended in a sliver of daylight showing through a gap in the earth. The woman had slipped the statue of the cat through that hole, though not out of arm's reach should their plan fail. The cat had worked at digging down into the hole while the humans and the drow worked the earth from their side. Having nothing better to dig with than their daggers had proved hard work, and the result of their labor was an opening not four hand-lengths long and half that wide. Large stones, too large to be moved, stopped their excavation at that point, and they decided to test the hole's size and see if it was possible for them to escape this way. If not, it could be several days still until they found a way out.

Drizzt's free foot thumped into Entreri's head and he let out a soft curse. He braced the drow's foot up with his knee, and then moved the offending foot onto his shoulder, where Drizzt could get better purchase. He looked up, and became too aware of how vulnerable the dark elf was from this position, with his armor off and the vein on the inside of his thigh so close, so easy to open.

_One quick slash, and his life's blood would spill from him..._ it was a killing blow as sure as a slit throat, and in this position, wedged into the tight confines of the gap in the earth, the drow would be half-dead before he could squirm free and offer a fight. _A moment to kill the woman; all that would remain is to wait for the cat to take its rest. Move the corpse out of the way, climb out, and collect the statuette. _It was the best opportunity to finish this that he had seen yet; the best chance to kill Drizzt before he could leave.

The hilt of his dagger was cool in his hand, but he could not draw the blade. He had no doubts that Drizzt would cause him pain, that the drow would leave him. In twenty years, he had not hesitated in a case where the personal consequences to himself had been so clear.

And now he did not hesitate; he chose. He chose to let Drizzt live, to go back to his life and his friends and leave Entreri somewhere on the way, more broken than when they had first touched. _If I do one good thing in this world, it will be this: that I did not destroy something of beauty, no matter the harm it would cause me._

Entreri shoved, Drizzt scrambled, and suddenly there was only a gash of sunlight above him where the drow's legs had been.

Grey eyes stared up into the golden light, and he fought to not feel the ache of abandonment. _The woman is still down here. _He knew Drizzt would not leave his long-time companion, no matter how little attachment he had for Entreri.

A dark figure eclipsed the sun as Drizzt leaned back over the hole in the ground. "Here." That single word held hope and joy and the dark hand reached out, fingers curled in silent beckoning.

Entreri's eyes stung as he took that hand. _Too long away from the sun..._ he thought, blinking away what he refused to acknowledge as tears.

* * *

Catti-brie stretched out on the ground by the fire. What she would have thought of as uncomfortable three moons ago was now a wonder. Dry leaves and green grass crinkled under her, and the smell of living growing things filled her senses.

Guenhwyvar had brought down a deer while they were extracting themselves from the ground, and they dined that eve on fresh hot _cooked_ meat. She could not remember a meal that she had appreciated more. It was a delight to be above the ground, to see the sky, to have open air all around them instead of the oppressive walls of stone and earth.

Drizzt seemed almost himself again, to her thinking. It was almost possible to forget what had happened to him, what he had been forced to endure. The way he smiled when he tipped his head back and gazed at the stars made it almost seem a religious rapture. Perhaps it was. She imagined him like this on that first night he had stepped above-ground. Even the drow clothing he still wore seemed somehow fitting in this reenactment.

Her eyes fell onto the last of their party. She had expected him to leave as soon as they saw sky, despite what had passed underground or perhaps because of it, but he had stayed. Entreri hid his emotions better than Drizzt, but as the man settled down to his rest, his eyes seldom strayed from the dark elf's face. There was a connection there. She could see it, even if the two involved seemed loathe to address it.

She may not have understood it, but she could not doubt its authenticity, and so she was very puzzled when Entreri turned his back to the fire and the man whose arms he had sought every time they had rested since the waterfall. She was even more puzzled when Drizzt watched the sleeping man's back for long minutes, conflict written over his fine features. When Drizzt walked over to the opposite side of the fire and stretched out to sleep himself, she knew she owed it to her friend to do now what she hadn't done in the Baelre complex. She had to act.

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	15. Proposal

Disclaimers and crap: see first post

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Catti-Brie caught Drizzt's attention by throwing an acorn at him, and when she nodded him towards the farthest edge of their camp from Entreri, he felt a wave of dread swirl around him. _Oh gods, she's meddling._ He had seen that look in her eyes before, and he now had a sense that he was doomed.

"Y' stubborn fool elf. What's he done for you to be treatin' him this way?" Her tone was sharp, and her blue eyes bright. Drizzt blinked at her, confused. This wasn't the conversation he had been anticipating. He opened his mouth to protest, to tell her that he was trying to do the right thing, to let Entreri get some needed rest, but she cut him off before he could make a sound.

"Don't ye see how he watches ye? Don't ye see how he was waitin' for ye?"

He tried to form a coherent protest. "No, but I..."

"If yer done with him ye need to be tellin' him so, not leavin' him wonderin' on the other side of the fire, and if ye aren't done with him, ye need to be talkin' to him anyways."

Drizzt growled his frustration. "But what if he's done with me?"

Her narrow fist popped him a solid little hit on his chest. "Do ye know, or are ye just talkin' yerself out of what ye want before yer askin'?"

"I..."

"That is Artemis Entreri an' I'm sure he'll be tellin' ye if he wants you gone. Call me if he tries killin' ye or something."

She grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him back to face the camp. "I'll be keepin' watch from way over here, an' facin' away from the fire." There was something almost lewd in her voice. "You go to him, an' you talk to him, or I will." He was so distracted by the turmoil of thoughts racing around in his head that he stumbled when she shoved him towards Entreri's still form.

Regaining his grace, his stealth, and a hint of his composure, Drizzt made his way across the leafy ground to Entreri. He could tell that the man was not sleeping, though he didn't roll over, or move in any way. His shoulders were too tight for sleep, and his breaths too short.

Drizzt just stood there for long moments, gathering his thoughts, watching the play of the flickering firelight over the side of Artemis' face. _I have taken so much..._ he thought, and swore to take no more, but to give and share, should the chance exist.

"May I...join you?" His voice sounded foreign, hoarse. Entreri's eyes opened, and the firelight reflected in the steel-grey eyes turned them to a color like molten lava. A small nod was all Drizzt needed and he sank to the ground behind him, stretching out against the warmth of the human's body, pressing his face against the softness of Entreri's dark hair.

The assassin sighed, and he felt some of the tension leave himself. A sense of rightness filled him. This was where he belonged. This was where Entreri could belong. They lay together in silence for a long time, listening to the pop and crackle of the fire, the whisper of the wind.

"Where will you go?" Drizzt asked, and felt the man tense in his arms.

"Calimport," Entreri replied without hesitation.

"Don't." Drizzt whispered. He wanted to struggle, to fight, but there was no target for him to strike against.

Entreri snorted. "Where should I go instead?"

Drizzt's answer came as quick as Entreri's. "Come with me."

Derision clung to the assassin's voice. "And live in a dwarf mine with the bearded hoards and a Halfling that I once tortured?"

Drizzt winced and closed his eyes, pressing close again to the dark hair. "Come with me," he whispered again, "We'll go somewhere new, somewhere neither of us has been..."

He could hear the sneer, even if he couldn't see it. "And you'll ally yourself with an assassin, a murderer, a man with no morals, and no honor? I doubt your conscience could survive."

"You don't have to be that anymore." Drizzt could hear the fear rising in his voice. "I...cannot judge the things you've done, Artemis. I cannot, I will not." He sighed and concentrated for a moment on the words he wanted to say, the emotions he tried to control. "Begin anew. Start over with me. We will find a way, we must."

He felt Entreri shiver. "It is not a small thing you ask of me, Drow. To risk all that I have worked my life to become. Should this effort fail, you will still be young, and have time to restart your life where you left it. My brightest days are fading, I would be left an old man with no time to prepare for my old age, and no reputation to protect me."

"I won't abandon you." And in that moment, Drizzt meant every word. "I won't leave you. I swear to you, come with me, live a new way, and I will be with you until your life is over, or mine has been ended."

"Damn you," Entreri whispered. "If you leave me I'll find you and I'll kill you."

In the flickering light of the fire, Drizzt smiled. The acceptance was more than he had hoped for.


End file.
